You Know Me So Well
by Olivia Sutton
Summary: How did Jeff Randall react to Freya Cargill's rejection? How did Marty Hopkirk, put him back together again? Based on 2000 version Randall and Hopkirk, deceased, episode Revenge of the Bog People
1. Default Chapter Chapter 1

Title: You Know Me So Well"

Author: Olivia Sutton

Rating: PG-13

First Original Presentation:

Archive:

Category: TV/Randall and Hopkirk (deceased)

Angst, episode dependent, drama

_Disclaimer: Randall and Hopkirk (deceased) is copyright 2000 and 2001 by the BBC. The original version was copyright 1969 by ITC. This fanfic is based on the 2000 version starring Bob Mortimer and Vic Reeves._

_Formatting: I can't use special fonts in plain text, so if you would like a copy of the complete story, formatted nicely, in Microsoft Word, just e-mail me, okay? Thanks!_

_This is my first longer-length Randall and Hopkirk, deceased fanfiction, and I have to thank my beta Jackie Cox from the UK who tirelessly went over my manuscripts for a month, offering suggestions, correcting my Americanisms, and encouraging me to write more. Thanks, Jackie, you've been wonderful--couldn't have done it without you!_

_This story is based on the episode, "Revenge of the Bog People" of the new Randall and Hopkirk, Deceased, which aired on BBCAmerica, if you haven't seen that episode, this story probably won't make much sense. There's also a couple of references to "Into all Sadness a Little Happiness Must Fall", another of my RnHd fanfics, which is archived here on , please read that one first if you're of age--and if you're not, well, you're not going to miss much, really, they are very very small references._

_Summary: How did Jeff Randall react to Freya Cargill's rejection? How did Marty put him back together again? There's some rough dialogue here and mentions of adultish topics, be warned. Comments are always welcomed and highly encouraged!_

"...she turned you into a useless, blubbering fool that it took me the best part of a year to put back together..." Marty Hopkirk to Jeff Randall, regarding Freya Cargill, "Revenge of the Bog People", Randall and Hopkirk (deceased)

**"You Know Me So Well"**

**by Olivia Sutton**

**Setting: Some time in 1990.**

Marty Hopkirk hit the accelerator of his Ford Sierra and drove faster, _Come on, Come on_, he said to himself as he wove through traffic on the busy M1 motorway. Suddenly, Marty slammed on the car's breaks as the traffic slowed ahead of him, he reached for the mobile on the car seat and hit re-dial. The phone rang several times, then Marty heard his own voice, "You have reached the offices of Randall and Hopkirk..."

Marty hit the "End Call" button on his mobile, and pulled into the slowly moving traffic, frantically driving back to London.

****

**--Earlier that week--**

"Jeff are you sure you don't want to come with me to Leeds? The case shouldn't take that much time at'all and we could go see your mum in Middlesbrough once I'm done."

"No, that's okay, Marty. Go, have a good time, keep in touch."

"Are you sure you don't want to come with me?"

"Marty!" Jeff looked up at the ceiling, "Marty, look, I'm **fine**, stop worrying. I want to catch-up the files and start the accounts."

"Well, why don't you come instead? I'm sure you can find sommat to do whilst I'm working on the case and as soon as I get the evidence on Mr. Smith, we could catch the train north, your mum would love to see you, Jeff."

"Marty, I'll be fine on me own here."

"Well, it's only YOUR mother, Jeff. I can't change your mind, you want to stay in London?"

"Yes, I'm going to stay here. You know, we need to leave soon or you'll miss your train."

Marty looked at Jeff, "Well, if you're sure. Look, don't take any cases whilst I'm away, all right? The bank balance is actually in the black for once, so there is no need for you to take any sort of risk, when I can't be here to back you up."

Jeff looked at his partner, "Okay, all right, I won't take any cases alone, Marty."

"Not even simple ones, Jeff, you know that sometimes even simple cases turn out to be dangerous."

"Fine. Not even a simple one. I don't know why you're so worried. I'm capable of taking care of myself, you know," Jeff replied.

Marty looked away, then back at Jeff, "I'm not worried, there's just no point in taking risks, and detective work without back-up is too risky. That's all. Now let's head over to the train station."

Jeff nodded, and the two left the office together so that Jeff could drive Marty to the train station.

****

- 

-

Marty arrived in Leeds, checked into his hotel, and laid the groundwork for the case. He called Jeff regularly to report on his progress, and if Marty was honest with himself-- to check on Jeff and to make sure he wasn't in any sort of trouble. Finally, by late Thursday, Marty wrapped up the case, getting plenty of photographs of Mr. Smith, for his wife's divorce proceedings. The next morning, happy with his quick progress, Marty sat on the bed in his hotel room and called Jeff in London. The phone rang, then clicked and Jeff picked up.

"Hello?" said Jeff.

Marty could hear all sorts of static on the line and realised the click had been the office phone forwarding the call to Jeff's brand-new mobile, "Hello Jeff, Where are you? The line is noisy."

"I'm... I'm on my mobile, I'm not in the office," answered Jeff over the line.

"I wrapped up the case, so how are things in London?"

Jeff paused then said, "It's Freya... she has me on a case, her father..." the phone crackled.

"What!" Marty shouted into his phone, as he tried to suss out what Jeff was saying.

"Freya... her father's been accused of a serious robbery at the museum. I'm looking into it."

"What? I thought we agreed, Jeff? No cases whilst I was gone, remember?"

"But it's for Freya. It's her father, and he's missing, Marty. I mean, she's my fiancée, I couldn't say no, now could I?"

Marty gritted his teeth, "No, I suppose not. Be careful, Jeff, I'm not there to give you backup."

"I'm always careful, Marty," answered Jeff.

"Wait... you sure you don't want me to come back, today? I finished the case, last night, I could hire a car, or sommat, rather than waiting for the Monday sleeper?"

"Marty, I can handle it, all right? It's a missing persons, shouldn't be difficult. To be honest, Marty, Freya showed up in the office Tuesday last asking for help, and I never said anything, because I knew you'd react like this. The case is almost wrapped up. Don't **worry** so much, I'll be fine. Enjoy your week-end, and I'll see you Monday morning, like we planned, all right?"

"Well, if you're sure everything is all right, Jeff," said Marty, skeptically.

"I'm fine, everything's fine here. Bye, Marty."

Marty noticed something slightly odd in Jeff's tone, "Well, if you're sure."

"I'm sure, Marty. Don't worry about me, I'm fine."

"Okay, then. See you later."

"Yah, see you, bye Marty."

"Bye, Jeff."

Marty sat the phone down, and stared at the hotel wall for a few seconds, then he picked up the phone again, "Hello, concierge desk? Yes, this is Marty Hopkirk in 507, I would like to hire a car..." Marty listened a moment, "Yes...I need to return to London sooner than planned..." there was another pause, "That would be fine...thank you," Marty set down the phone, then rose off the bed, and began packing up his belongings from the hotel room. He told himself that he hadn't quite lied to Jeff, he had never promised to actually stay in Leeds for the week-end. He'd surprise Jeff by being a few days early. It was still fairly early in the morning, and the weather was fine, it should be an easy three and a half-hour drive back to London.

****

- 

-

Marty ran up the stairs of Cope House to the offices of **Randall and Hopkirk, **as he reached the landing, he saw the outer door slightly ajar, "Jeff? Jeff!" he shouted as he reached the door and cautiously pushed it open. 

Marty entered the outer office, the inner office door was open, through the door he could see a body lying on the floor, behind Jeff's desk. He flew to the body and realised straight away that it was Jeff. He knelt and felt for a pulse, there didn't seem to be one, Marty pushed his fingers deeper into his mate's neck, and finally a faint, slow beat met his searching fingers. "Thank god," he muttered, placing Jeff on his side, and proceeding to check that Jeff was breathing. Confirming that he was, Marty began to look around the office as he reached for the phone and dialed 999 for emergency services. As he dialed the office phone his eyes lit on the half-empty whiskey bottle on the desk and the empty tablet bottle and glass tumbler next to it. "Oh, no," Marty mumbled as he picked up the bottle.

Emergency Services finally picked up, "Police, fire, ambulance, What is your emergency?" said a woman in a nasal voice.

"Yes, I need an ambulance, please, and hurry."

"Address please?" said the voice on the line.

Marty gave the address and calmly answered the questions asked by the emergency services dispatcher. Whilst he answered the questions, he kept one eye on Jeff, and tried to read the tablet bottle with the other. Eventually the dispatcher rang off, and Marty sat the phone down, and focused on reading the bottle label. He soon realised that it contained Jeff's pain prescription for arthritic joints. Having determined it wasn't a sedative, Marty slipped the bottle into his suit-coat pocket and returned to Jeff's side.

"God, Jeff, Why?" said Marty, keeping a close eye on his best mate. "Why?" he said again, holding Jeff's hand, as he knelt next to his body, "Why didn't you talk to me on the phone? Um, Jeff? We've been through so much, couldn't you have talked to me?" Marty said, then he lowered his head, waiting for the ambulance and hoping for his mate's recovery.

Sometime later, Marty heard a noise in the hall and shouted, "In here!"

Two EMTs and a paramedic entered the main office, then hurried into the inner office.

"What happened?" asked the paramedic.

"I don't know. When I came in, he was unconscious next to the desk. I think he'd been drinking," Marty pointed to the whiskey bottle.

The paramedic nodded, "What's his name?"

"Randall, Jeff Randall," Marty supplied.

The paramedic was examining Jeff, looking for any injuries and checking his vital signs as he spoke to Marty, "Do you know anything else about what happened?"

Marty groaned, then took the tablet bottle out of his pocket, "He... he might have taken this, it's a prescription for pain, he was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis about six months ago", he handed the bottle to the paramedic, "He doesn't normally take much pain medication, he doesn't want to become dependent, he's only twenty-eight."

"What?" asked the paramedic, taking the stethoscope out of his ears.

"I said, he's twenty-eight years old."

The paramedic nodded, "Do you know if he has any allergies to medication?"

"Well, he's allergic to Codeine," Marty said.

The paramedic made a note on his pad, "Is there anything else in his medical history, sir?"

Marty said, "No. He'll be all right, won't he?"

"We'll do our best, sir," said the paramedic, then he reported in on his radio-mike, "London Central, Unit 45, 28-year old male, possible drug/alcohol overdose, he's unconscious, pulse is weak, breathing is normal, vitals to follow. Be advised, patient is allergic to Codeine. Transporting immediately."

"It could have been an accident, you know," Marty said, "Jeff doesn't normally drink heavily, if he fell..."

"They'll give him tests at the hospital, sir," said one of the EMTs.

"But he'll be all right, won't he? He has to be!" insisted Marty.

"We'll do everything we can. Now, sir, if you'll back out of the way, we need to get him to the ambulance outside."

Marty nodded and backed up behind his own desk, "May I come with you then? Jeff's me best mate as well as business partner..."

"And you don't know what happened?" asked one of the EMTs.

"I've been working on a case in Leeds for the last week. I came back this afternoon, because, well, Jeff didn't sound like himself when I phoned him this morning."

"So, you suspected he was distraught?" asked the paramedic.

"I don't know what I flamin' suspected! Not this!"

The EMTs had Jeff on the stretcher-trolley and began moving towards the outer office.

"You're detectives, correct, sir?" asked one of the EMTs, "Was Mr. Randall working on a dangerous case?"

Marty looked at the paramedic, and the light bulb went on over his head, "That's it!" he snapped his fingers, "He said his fiancée's father went missing. Jeff was investigating the disappearance. Freya! Freya must know something!"

"Who's Freya?" asked the paramedic as they moved the stretcher down the hall towards the lift.

"His fiancée, I just said."

"Can you contact her?"

"Oh, I'll contact her all right," Marty's eyes glittered, his tone hard. "If she's somehow responsible for this, I'll tear her apart!"

"Sir, there's no need for violence," said the EMT, punching the lift button.

"If she hurt Jeff, there's plenty of need for violence," Marty murmured under his breath, "I'll..." but he stopped speaking as they loaded Jeff into the lift, rode downstairs, and took Jeff to the ambulance.

Jeff was quickly loaded into the ambulance, and Marty made to follow him inside the back.

"Sir, I'm sorry..."

"I'm going with him," said Marty, in a tone that brooked no argument.

"Yes, sir, but relatives... and friends, ride up front. Is there any family to notify?"

"His mother's in Middlesbrough. I'll contact her when I know more, there's no point in panicking her."

"As you like, sir," said the EMT as Jeff was loaded into the ambulance, the paramedic joined him, then shut the door from the inside. The other EMT walked 'round to the front, and motioned for Marty to sit in the passenger seat, before getting in the driver's seat and buckling up, "Seatbelt, sir," he said, then started the ambulance and smoothly pulled into traffic. Marty buckled-up and sat tensely in the passenger seat of the ambulance, not even observing the heavy traffic that they were weaving through.

TO BE CONTINUED


	2. Chapter 2

**You Know Me So Well**

**By Olivia Sutton**

**Part 2**

****

The ambulance quickly reached the hospital and Jeff was rushed through the busy A & E department. Marty followed the trolley along until Jeff was wheeled into the treatment area. A nurse grabbed his arm and pushed him out of the way.

"I'm sorry, sir, you can't enter the treatment ward, you'll need to wait in the designated area."

"He's me best mate! And me business partner! Please!" said Marty, turning his most pleading look on the nurse.

"The doctors' need space to work, someone will be out to talk to you as soon as possible."

"Right, where can I wait?" asked Marty.

The nurse pointed to a row of white, plastic chairs, "Over there for now, if anything changes, someone will inform you."

Marty nodded, then reluctantly turned away and sat on one of the chairs against the wall.

  
  


****

Sometime later, a doctor came out and approached Marty. "Sir, I'm Doctor Honeycutt, you're waiting for word on Mr. Randall?"

Marty stood, "Doctor, is Jeff... he's all right, isn't he?"

"Sir... What's your name?"

"Marty, Marty Hopkirk, Jeff's me best mate, and we're in business together. Is he all right?"

"He's stable. Mr. Hopkirk, your friend apparently intentionally took a large amount of alcohol and a large dose of prescription pain medication. We pumped his stomach, and he's currently undergoing dialysis to remove the dangerous substances from his blood. Also, he hit his head on the floor... it doesn't seem serious at the moment but he will require observation. Once the dialysis is done he'll be moved to the lockdown ward for treatment."

Marty listened, trying to take in everything the doctor said, but he was still hearing the doctor's first words in his mind, "You're... you're saying it wasn't an accident, aren't you?" he asked, quietly.

"Yes, I'm sorry. Do you have any idea why Mister Randall would..."

Marty interrupted, "He wouldn't...not Jeff, he couldn't have..."

"The evidence suggests..."

"Well, you're wrong then..."

"Sir, I'm sorry, but..." Dr. Honeycutt looked away, then looked at Marty, "Denial from family and friends doesn't help the patient in situations like this...Do you know why Mister Randall took an intentional overdose? Do you have any idea? It would help in his treatment."

Marty took a deep breathe, "No, I... Bollocks... I leave for a week and everything turns to... Wait..." Marty snapped his fingers... "I think I know who might know sommat. His fiancée, Freya... the last thing Jeff told me was that he was working a case for Freya... That's got to be it. She must know something about this."

"Can you contact her?" asked Dr Honeycutt.

"Oh, I'll contact her all right," Marty's eyes glittered, "When can I see him, Doctor?"

"It will be a few hours before he's transferred to a bed in psychiatric and ready to receive visitors."

"And I can see him then?"

"He doesn't have any relatives in London?"

"No, his mother's in Middlesbrough, I'd better phone her. Look, doctor," Marty said, grabbing Dr. Honeycutt's arm, "Jeff's been me mate since we were schoolboys. We've been through a lot. You **have to** let me see him," Marty let go, "As soon as possible."

The doctor looked at Marty and his earnest expression. "All right, give me your details, and I'll write a note that you're allowed to see him as if you were family. Visiting time is severely limited for psychiatric patients as you can imagine..."

"I need to see him, Doctor, talk to him. I have to understand why Jeff did this, so I can help him."

"He should be in a recovery room in a few hours. I'll leave word you can see him then," Dr. Honeycutt looked at Marty with concern in his hazel eyes, "Until then, my professional opinion is that you get out of here. Call Mr. Randall's mother and his fiancée, get a little rest, bring back some comfortable clothes for Mr. Randall, whatever, but get out of here. You need the break, Mr. Hopkirk."

Marty looked at him, "Well..."

"You need a break, Mr. Hopkirk, and there is nothing you can do here, until we've completed the dialysis treatment and settled Mr. Randall into his room. Then he will **need you**, if you are mates as you say," the doctor ignored Marty's beginning words of protest, "He will need you, rested, thinking clearly, and able to bear whatever he has to tell you," the Doctor paused, looking away, then added, "I can tell you care, Mr. Hopkirk, you can best help your mate by taking care of yourself. Come back in a few hours."

Marty nodded, "All right," he stuck out his hand, "Thanks, doctor."

"You're welcome," the doctor shook his hand, then turned on his heel and left.

  
  


****

Marty walked out of the hospital and phoned a cab on his mobile, it was cold outside and the sun was now setting. Marty walked up and down near the hospital entrance, waiting for the cab, thinking, _No, I can't keep putting this off, I need to call her, she needs to know what's happened._ Marty closed his eyes a moment, thinking back to his teenaged years when he had moved in with Jeff and his family, following...Marty shuddered at the thought, then purposely did not allow himself to dwell on what had caused him to leave his own mother's house and move in to Jeff's family home. Over time, however, whilst living in the Randall home, Marty had became especially close to Jeff's mother. Even now, living in London, he maintained contact with Mrs. Randall, a woman he often called "mum", because she was closer to him than his own mother. _No, she has to know, and I have to be the one to tell her_, Marty thought. With regret, he punched a memorised number on his mobile.

The phone rang, then a warm, friendly, Northern-accented voice said, "Hello?"

"Mrs. Randall, it's Marty."

"Marty, well, hello. You haven't phoned for some time, how are you?"

"I know, I'm sorry, Mrs. Randall, Mum, I'm fine..." Marty broke off.

"Marty, there's nothing wrong, is there?"

"Um... Mrs. Randall... Mum... I..." Marty choked-up, unable to continue.

"Marty, what's wrong?"

"It's Jeff, Mrs. Randall, Mum, it's Jeff..." Marty broke off again.

"Something's happened. Oh, god, something's happened to Jeff. Tell me."

"He's in hospital... I ... I don't really know what happened. I don't know, Mrs. Randall, Mum, I was in Leeds on a case, I wasn't here. But I told him, I said, 'No cases whilst I'm gone,' but... I should have insisted he come with me. I am so sorry, Mrs. Randall, Mum, I am so sorry," Marty babbled, tears in his voice and his eyes.

"Marty?" asked Mrs. Randall, "Marty--What happened? He's my son, Marty, please tell me."

Marty paused, looking up at the darkening sky, and was about to say something when he heard Mrs. Randall speak.

"Are you there?"

"I'm here, Mum, I'm...here. No, Mum, I haven't been allowed to see him yet, he's still in treatment. The doctors kicked me out; they said come back in a few hours. Mum, he... I don't know how to tell you this...he...Jeff..." Marty left off.

"Marty, take a deep breath, calm down a minute, then tell me. Now, where are you?"

"I'm standing outside the hospital, I'm waiting for a cab to take me back to the office, I rode in the ambulance with Jeff to hospital," Marty said, pacing as he talked.

"All right, Marty, all right," said Mrs. Randall calmly, "Now, which hospital, Marty? Where should I come and see him?"

"Central London."

"All right, Central London Hospital, I'll be there straight away, Marty, " Mrs. Randall said, then she added quietly, "Now, can you tell me any more about what happened? Please, Marty he's my son, I need to know."

Marty took a deep breath, "Mrs. Randall, Mum, he... oh god, he took an overdose-- his pain tablets and alcohol, he was unconscious on the floor in the office when I found him," Marty answered.

"Oh, no, Marty, I'm sorry..."

Marty interrupted her, "You're sorry? If I had only insisted he come to Leeds with me this never would have happened!"

"Do you know...?"

"No, I don't. I suspect something happened with Freya. I'm going to try to find her."

"All right, Marty, now listen, I'll be there as soon as I can," she paused, "Is there a way I can contact you?"

"Phone me on my mobile," Marty paused, then read the number off to her, "Mrs. Randall, Mum, I'll phone you back once I know something, I will."

"Marty, I don't have one of those new mobile phones. I'll phone you, all right?"

"Yah, that's fine."

"Marty?" said Mrs. Randall, softly.

A cab pulled up next to Marty, "Mum, my cab's here, I've got to go."

"All right. Marty, he'll be all right, I know it."

"I know, I know, Mum, I'm sorry, I've **got** to go, I'll call. No, wait, you call me. Bye, Mum."

"Bye, Marty."

Marty clicked off the phone and stepped into the cab, giving the driver the address of his office.

****


	3. Chapter 3

**You Know Me So Well**

**By Olivia Sutton**

**Part 3**

****

The cab drove Marty back to his office, where instead of even entering the office, Marty simply got into his hired Ford Sierra and drove off. Leaving the office block, he drove to Freya's flat and parked outside the modern building. He knew that Freya and Jeff were still looking for a new house to share once they were married, so each had kept their own flat, though Marty also knew the two usually bunked-in together at one flat or the other. Marty quit the car, and went to the foyer of the building. He leaned on the bell for number 304, Freya's flat. There was no answer, so he rang the bell longer, still no answer. Marty scanned the names next to the flat buzzers. "Hum, P Smith, let's give it a go, shall we?" Marty said to himself, punching the buzzer for 401.

"Yes, who is it?" came a female voice from the tinny speaker.

"Plumber, I'm supposed to check a leak in 304, but the owner's not answering, could you let me in please?"

"Oh, sure, good luck-- haven't seen her in awhile, I figured she'd left on her honeymoon already," the door buzzed.

Marty grabbed the door, muttering, "Thanks," in the direction of the speaker box, and entered the block of flats. He took the lift to Freya's floor, and soon found her flat, the door was ajar. Marty pushed open the door--the flat was in shambles, clothes and belongings thrown everywhere, "Freya!" yelled Marty, shutting the door behind himself. Marty searched the flat but it was empty. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, Marty wiped the doorknob and anything else he may have touched, then left the flat, shutting the door out of courtesy. He rode the lift back down to the ground floor, and left the building for his hired car.  
  
  
  
  
  
  


****

Marty drove to the museum, tapping his fingers on the wheel as he drove. He reached the museum minutes before closing. Marty parked in the visitors car park and walked in the main entrance. Just inside the entrance to the museum was a desk with brochures and maps in pockets on the front and in stacks on the desktop. Two bored-looking teenagers in museum guide uniforms manned the desk. Marty strode towards them with a purpose in his stride.

"Can I help you, sir?" asked the female museum guide.

"Yes, I'm looking for Freya Cargill? Her father is Professor Cargill, he works here?"

The guide nodded, "May I enquire as to why?"

"There's... there's a family emergency, I need to contact Freya, or her father. Please?" Marty looked at the female guard and batted his eyes, shamelessly.

"Just a moment, I'll check..." the guide turned away, picked up a radio walkie-talkie, and spoke into it.

Marty paced in front of the desk.

The guard returned her attention to Marty and said, "I'm sorry sir, Professor Cargill has been dismissed, and I checked with the Iron Age curators, Freya Cargill is not here."

Marty looked at her and nodded, then spun on his heel and left, walking out the main door to the car park. He returned to his hired car and got in. Marty hit the steering wheel in anger, "Well, two tries down," he said to himself, then inserted the key, started the car and drove off.  
  
  
  


****

Marty soon pulled up to Jeff's block of flats, he quit the car and hurried into the building, he let himself into the foyer using his spare key, and quickly mounted the stairs to Jeff's floor. Marty reached Jeff's flat and knocked. When no one answered the door, he pulled out his key and let himself in. The flat was neat and tidy, or as tidy as Jeff normally kept it. Marty quickly searched the flat, but it was empty. He then took a few minutes to pack a small bag of clothes, pajamas, and other necessities for Jeff, then returned to the lounge and sat on the sofa near the phone. Marty reached for the phone and dialed a long-remembered number. The phone rang several times, then the answerphone picked up.

"Mum, it's Marty, I suppose you've already left, but if you check and get this message, I'm... I'm at Jeff's flat. I haven't found Freya...I'm heading back to the hospital, see you soon."

Marty rang off, as he did so, his mobile rang, "Hopkirk, here," said Marty.

"Marty, it's me."

"Oh, hello, Mrs. Randall, Mum, where are you?"

"Darlington train station, my train leaves in a few minutes. Any news?"

"No, not really, I checked her flat and the museum, but I couldn't find Freya. Mum, I don't know what's going on. Mum...Mum the last time I saw Jeff, he was unconscious on the floor in the office. The doctors wouldn't let me see him, at hospital. And now, I can't find Freya, and I don't know what to do anymore."

"Marty, calm down. Where are you?"

"Jeff's flat, she's not here either. I packed up a few things for Jeff, though."

"Okay, okay Marty, that's good. Now, Marty, go to Jeff, talk to him. He'll talk to you, he always has."

"But what if I can't talk to him?" said Marty, then he added, "No, no, he'll wake up, he has to. I'm sorry, Mum, I...I don't mean to think that way."

"It's okay, Marty, it's okay. I know this is hard on you, but pull yourself together, Jeff will need you."

Marty nodded, then said, in a stronger voice, "When will you be in London, then?"

"I should be there in about three hours, Marty, I'll come straight to hospital and meet you. Marty, go to Jeff."

"Um-hum," Marty swallowed, then said, "Thanks, Mrs. Randall, Mum, I... just thanks," said Marty, then he clicked "end call" and sighed. He picked up the bag and quit the flat, locking the door on his way out. He walked down the stairs, out the front door, and to his hired car, got in and drove straight to hospital.  
  
  
  


  
  


****

Marty drove quickly to Central London Hospital, once he arrived he parked in the visitor's car park, and followed the directional signs to the psychiatric locked ward. He reached the reception desk, where he explained who he was, who he wanted to see, and showed his identification. Once he had gone through all that, he was given Jeff's room number.

Marty stood outside Jeff's room and took a deep breath, before opening the door and walking in. Jeff lay in a hospital bed asleep. Marty quietly shut the door, and made his way to a chair by Jeff's side. He sat, then took Jeff's hand, gently.

"Jeff, man, why?" Marty murmured, holding Jeff's hand, "Come on, wake up, Jeff, we need to talk. And I need **you**, Jeff. I need you with me. Come on, wake-up, please, Jeff."

Marty lowered his head, hoping that Jeff would recover. After a few minutes sitting at his mate's side, he felt pressure on his hand and he looked up and saw Jeff opening his eyes.

Marty let go of Jeff's hand, then stood next to the hospital bed, and looked down at Jeff in the bed.

Jeff groaned, then looked up and said, "Marty?" but his voice squeaked as he did so.

"Would you like some water, Jeff?" Marty asked, leaving the bedside to pour a glass tumbler full of water from a pitcher on the nearby table. Marty set the tumbler down, returned to the bed and fluffed the pillows so Jeff could sit up, then brought him the water.

Jeff sipped the water, then asked, "What happened?"

"Don't you remember?" Marty asked softly.

"Not really, no," said Jeff.

"The thing is, Jeff, I don't know what happened," Marty sat in the chair next to Jeff's bed, "When I walked into the office, you were on the floor, unconscious, I called emergency services, and you were rushed here."

"So what happened?" asked Jeff.

"I don't know," replied Marty.

"Where am I?" asked Jeff.

"Central London hospital."

"What happened?" asked Jeff.

"I don't know!" insisted Marty, running a hand through his own hair.

"Where am I?"

"Central London hospital. I just told you that, Jeff."

"What happened?"

"Jeff?" Marty looked at his mate, then reached for the call alarm to alert a nurse. "Jeff, do you remember anything? Do you know who I am?"

Jeff stopped and looked at him, "You're Marty, Marty Hopkirk."

"That's right, Jeff. And what do we do?"

"We have a detective agency together."

"Right again, now do you know where you are?"

Jeff looked around, "It looks like a hospital."

"That's right, Jeff, you're in hospital. Do you remember **which** hospital?"

Jeff thought for a moment, "No, sorry."

"That's all right, Jeff," said Marty calmly. He was about to add something, when two nurses and Doctor Honeycutt entered the room. Marty rose from his chair and walked over to them.

Marty looked at the doctor then said, "He just woke up, but something's wrong, he keeps asking, 'What happened?', and 'Where am I?' --and I told him where he was, Dr. Honeycutt, I told him twice."

Dr. Honeycutt nodded, then asked a few more questions, whilst the nurses checked Jeff's vitals and asked him a few questions of their own. Then Dr. Honeycutt, took Marty aside and quietly said, "He may have a concussion, if so, the short-term memory should return as soon as we relieve the swelling. We need to do a few tests, and I may need to call for a neurological consult. You'll need to wait outside, Mr. Hopkirk."

Marty looked at Dr. Honeycutt, about to ask a question, then changed his mind and reluctantly left the room. Once outside he began to pace back and forth in the hall outside his mate's room.

  
  


****

Marty was still pacing, when a very short, grey-haired woman came rushing up to him. Marty put his arms around her and hugged her tight, "Mrs. Randall, Mum, I'm so glad you're here..." He reluctantly let go of her, but kept a hand on her arm. 

"How's Jeff? Have you seen him?"

"Let's sit a minute," said Marty, then he led her to some nearby plastic chairs. "Would you like some tea, Mrs. Randall...Mum?"

"Not yet, Marty. Now, please talk to me," they reached some plastic chairs and sat down, then Mrs. Randall asked, "Tell me, Marty, tell me what's happened to Jeff. How is he?"

Marty took her hand and said, "Well, he's woke up, but... there's sommat wrong," Marty took a deep breath, then explained, "He remembered me, our business, but he kept asking over and over 'What happened?', 'Where am I?', even though I told him. The doctor thinks it's a concussion, they're doing tests."

Mrs. Randall nodded, holding Marty's hand, then asked, "But what happened, Marty? What happened to Jeff?"

Marty let go of her hand and stood up, then began pacing in front of her, trying to work off a bit of his scared, nervous, energy, "I don't know, but he... the doctors have told me it was an intentional overdose, Mum. I don't understand, how could Jeff do that? How could he and not even phone me? Not even talk to me," Marty stood still, hitting his fist into his hand, "Jeff's me best mate, I..." Marty left off, then began to pace again, "I came back to the office, and Jeff... Jeff was lying there, on the floor, unconscious. We got him here, to hospital, me and an ambulance and crew. I wish I... I want him better... I just want him back."

Mrs. Randall stood and put a hand on his upper arm, holding him still with a light touch, "He'll be all right, I know it."

Marty looked at her, his eyes full of concern, "I hope so."  
  
  
  


  


****

Sometime later a doctor came out, and not one that Marty recognised. "Are you the family of Jeff Randall?" asked the doctor, as he approached them.

Marty and Mrs. Randall rose and joined the doctor, "I'm Marty Hopkirk, this is Jeff's mother, Anna Randall. Is he all right?"

"I'm Doctor Beckwith, I'm the neurologist assigned to Mister Randall. He has a severe concussion, and we had to reduce the pressure on his brain by draining off some liquid, but the procedure worked and he's conscious and retaining information, which are both good signs. I don't mind telling you, it was touch and go for awhile there, though."

Mrs. Randall groaned at the mention of a concussion, and nearly collapsed. Marty held her upright, though he felt the blood drain from his face at the shock, "Will...will he be all right?" he asked, softly.

"I'm hopeful," answered Dr. Beckwith.

"Can I...can we see him?"

"One at a time, and don't stay long. Mr. Randall needs his rest."

Marty nodded and then turned to Jeff's mother, "Mrs. Randall, Mum, you go in first, he's your son."

"No, no, Marty... you can..." she began to cry.

"No, go ahead, it's all right, really," said Marty.

Mrs. Randall nodded, then walked to the door and entered the room. Dr. Beckwith glanced at the chart in his hands, then walked away.

Marty turned away, as Mrs. Randall and the Doctor left him alone in the hall, he faced the wall, leaning forward, and with tears in his eyes he said, "Why, Jeff, why'd you do this? If it was because of Freya, so help me, I **will** track her down and tear her apart!" Marty slapped his fist into his palm, then turned around and sat in one of the hospital's plastic chairs. Leaning forward, Marty buried his face in his hands, and softly cried.

  
  


****

A few minutes later, Mrs. Randall came out of Jeff's room, holding a handkerchief to her eye.

"Mum, did he say anything?" asked Marty.

"He was still unconscious, Marty, but he looked so pale and small in that hospital bed. He was unconscious the whole time I was in there, I couldn't... I just wanted to know he heard me tell him how much I love him, is all."

"He knows... and I'll tell him if he wakes up whilst I'm in there, I promise."

Mrs. Randall nodded. Marty helped her into a chair, and then patted her arm reassuringly. "Would you like some tea or sommat before I leave? There's a vending machine 'round the corner."

"Yes, that would be nice, thank you, dear."

Marty nodded, then walked over to the vending machine. He dropped some coins into the machine, punched the buttons, then waited for the tea. Marty leaned his head against the machine and closed his eyes a moment, then straightened up, took the tea out of the dispenser, and returned to Mrs. Randall.

"Here you are, white with double sugars, just as you like," Marty said to Jeff's mother. Marty sighed, then added, "He'll...he be all right, Mrs. Randall, Mum, he will..."

Mrs. Randall sipped her tea, "Of course he will, Marty. I'm all right, go see him."

Marty nodded and smiled at her, then lightly touched her shoulder, before heading towards Jeff's room.

Reaching the hospital room door, Marty had a sense of déjà vu as he took a deep breath and opened the door. He entered the hospital room, and immediately saw more leads and monitoring equipment surrounding Jeff than the previous time he had entered the room. He walked quietly to a chair near Jeff's side and sat down. Taking Jeff's hand, he looked at his pale face and said, "Jeff, man. Why'd you do this? What were you thinking of, me mate? God, Jeff, couldn't you have talked to me, I'd understand, you know that," Marty continued to talk quietly as he rubbed Jeff's hand in his own.

There was a soft moan from the bed, then Jeff abruptly woke up. Marty let go of his hand. "Jeff?"

"Marty, is that you?"

"Yah, of course, Jeff, how do you feel?"

"How ya' think, Marty?"

Marty winced, then said softly, "Do you remember what happened?"

Jeff nodded, then said, "Yah, yeah I do, Marty."

Marty stood next to the bed, and looked Jeff in the eye, "Jeff, whatever were you thinking of?"

Jeff didn't answer, he turned away, facing the wall, and pulled the hospital blanket up to his chin.

Marty groaned, then said, "Jeff, the doctors' told me you intentionally took an overdose. Talk to me, Jeff."

Jeff continued to look at the wall, "That's right, Marty, I did."

"For god's sake, why?"

"Because, because I..." Jeff turned and faced Marty, staring directly into Marty's bright blue eyes, he said, "Cause at the time, I wanted to die."

Marty stared at Jeff in shock, "No! Jeff you couldn't, I mean, what happened? I leave for a week, and everything turns to... Jeff..." Marty's voice broke.

Jeff spoke quietly, "Freya dumped me. She blamed me for her father's disappearance. She blamed me for not finding him."

"I might have known that witch was behind this. Surely, it wasn't your fault, Jeff, and anyway, you'd...you..." Marty looked up at the ceiling, and then back at Jeff, "Couldn't you have phoned me?"

"No, because of the other things she said."

"Which were?"

"That you're not me mate. That you don't care at'all for me, that I just make you look good, that you...that you wouldn't care if I were dead," Jeff turned away.

"Oh, she said that, did she?" Marty said angrily sarcastic, adding, "I'll kill her," under his breath. "Listen, it's not true Jeff, you're me best mate, I do care about you, I'd be lost without you," Marty put a hand on Jeff's shoulder, "Look at me, Jeff."

Jeff turned back and stared into Marty's bright blue eyes.

Marty put his hands on Jeff's shoulders, "Now, listen to me, Jeff. Nothing Freya said is true. I do care about you. If you...if you died, Jeff, I don't know what I'd do. I owe you my life, Jeff. But more than that, you... you're..." Marty looked aside for a moment, then looked directly into Jeff's soft brown eyes, "You're me best mate," Marty let go.

Jeff looked up at Marty, "You mean that," he said simply.

"Of course I mean it. Jeff, I..." Marty stopped.

"It's okay, Marty, it's okay. I'm fine, really," Jeff said quietly, trying to console him.

"You're fine...Jeff you are in hospital, you ODed...intentionally; God, Jeff, I thought I had lost you," Marty turned away, facing the wall next to Jeff's bed, trying to control himself.

"Marty..." said Jeff.

"I need to hear it, Jeff," said Marty, not looking at him.

"Hear what?"

Marty sighed, took a deep breath, and turned and looked at him.

Jeff looked at the naked pain in his mate's eyes, and said, "I'm okay, I... I don't want to... I'm not going to do it again, Marty. I'm glad that..."

Marty moved closer to the bed and sat down, then said, "Just say it, Jeff, please, just tell me."

"I'm sorry I took an overdose and it won't happen again. Satisfied?" Jeff said, pedantically.

"Only if you really mean it, Jeff," Marty answered.

"I do. It was stupid, Marty. I started drinking, and I couldn't stop. Then I thought about me pain tablets, and I took a couple, then I took more. Marty, I dumped the rest into the whiskey bottle. But the whole thing was stupid and best left forgotten. Marty, ...Marty I don't want to die, all right?"

Marty nodded, satisfied, then leant back in the chair he occupied, "Jeff, your mum's outside."

"You called me mum? She came down from Middlesbrough?"

"I had to call her, Jeff, and of course she came down. She loves you, Jeff. I... the doctors weren't sure..., Jeff, I had to call her."

"What does she know?"

"Oh, that the doctors said you took an intentional overdose... I had no choice, Jeff, she deserved to know the truth, I told her everything I could."

"I had best talk to her, then, Marty, but first, thanks."

"For what?"

"For being here, for being me mate, for everything."

Marty nodded, "Jeff, you've given me more than you've ever taken, you understand?"

Jeff nodded, "You can send in me mum, now, I'm ready for her."

Marty nodded, "Yah, Jeff," Marty stood up and put a hand on Jeff's shoulder, "It'll be all right. Everything will be all right."

Jeff nodded.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


****

Marty exited the room, and saw Mrs. Randall rise from her chair and come towards him, Marty quickly joined her.

"Marty?" she asked.

Marty took her hand, "He's awake, I talked to him."

"Thank god, Is he...is he all right?"

Marty looked away, "I think so, I don't know."

"What? Marty, talk to me."

"I..." Marty took a deep breath, then said, "He's all right."

"Marty? Come on, I could always tell when you were holding back when you were a teenager, and you haven't changed, now what is it?"

Marty turned from her, not answering.

Mrs. Randall reached up and put a hand on his shoulder.

Facing away from her, Marty said, "He...he made all the right noises, said all the right things, but... I'm scared, Mrs. Randall, Mum, I'm scared, I'm scared for him and for me. I don't know if I can trust anything he said."

Mrs. Randall nodded, "I'll go speak to him."

"Don't say anything, please, the last thing that Jeff needs to hear right now is that I... I don't completely trust him. Not now, please, Mum, Mrs. Randall, it would hurt him to know that I don't trust him. Maybe hurt him too much."

"Marty," she took him by the arm and spun him around, "Marty, I wouldn't say anything like that."

"It's just... this was so close. I never realised how much Freya meant to him; how much she could hurt him. I have to find her, Mum, I need to..." Marty left off, "I want to trust Jeff, to believe what he said about making a stupid mistake, but..."

"Mistake? He said it was an accident, then?"

"No, that's just it, Mum, Mrs. Randall, he admitted to taking an overdose, on purpose, he admitted it."

Mrs. Randall nodded, "Marty, maybe you should talk to the doctors here."

"No...No, I'm going to find Freya. Someone must know where she's gone. I'm going to find her, and find out...I need to know why she did this to Jeff."

"Freya, what's Freya got to do with this, she must be worried sick!"

"No, Mum, she dumped Jeff...that's why he...oh god," said Marty, turning away again, trying not to let her see he was on the verge of tears.

"She...she dumped him? Oh, no... they'd been together for two years, the wedding is next month..."

"I dare say the wedding's off."

"Marty...I know it's a terrible question, but how was Jeff?"

"He seemed...he seemed okay, concerned about me, actually. He wants to see you, he asked me to send you in to him."

"Then I had better go in. Marty, what are you going to do?"

"I'm...Mrs. Randall, I'm going to look for Freya. I tried her flat and the museum, but there must be someplace else...I'm, listen, can you take a cab to me flat when you're done here? I need to get on Freya's trail before it gets any colder. Here's a copy of the key," Marty handed her a key, "Let yourself in, all right?"

Mrs. Randall looked at him, "All right, Marty, go, find her, investigate if that's what you need to do. I'm going to see Jeff. I can contact you on your mobile?"

Marty nodded, "Yah, the mobile number's the same. I'm not going to the ends of the earth, you know, Jeff will need me here. But if I can just find Freya, or find out what happened, at least, that will be something."

"I suppose," Mrs. Randall put a hand on his arm, "Be careful, Marty."

"I will," Marty waved at her, then left.

Mrs. Randall turned away, steeled herself, and walked into her son's hospital room.

****


	4. Chapter 4

**You Know Me So Well**

**By Olivia Sutton**

**Part 4**

****

It was dark and quite late, as Marty left the hospital and walked to the car park, then he drove his car to Cope House. Marty walked up the stairs, slowly, to the office. He entered and shut the door behind himself, then went into the inner office, flipping on lights as he went. The office was a mess, the plastic wrappers and other rubbish left by the EMTs and paramedics littered the floor, the whiskey bottle was still on Jeff's desk, papers and such were strewn around. An image hit Marty full force, an image of Jeff lying on the floor. Marty gasped, then shook his head, closing his eyes. When he opened them, the image was gone, and the office was still a mess. He took a deep breath, and then another, and then he began to clean the office.

First, he went to Jeff's desk, and picked up the whiskey bottle. He brought it to the sink, near the coffeepot and dumped it out, noticing white grit in the liquid as he did so, then he dropped the bottle in the rubbish bin. Once that was done, Marty began picking up all the plastic, paper, foam bits, and other rubbish on the floor, dropping it in an office rubbish bin. Marty sighed as he worked, reminding himself that for the moment Jeff was okay.

Once he was done cleaning, Marty sat at his desk, trying to relax for a moment, but instead, he experienced flashes, snippets of his two hospital conversations with Jeff. Marty opened his eyes, and shook his head, then stood. Slowly he walked over to Jeff's desk and began to search through the papers on top. Marty's hands shook slightly as he searched, he was so afraid of what he'd find.

Marty placed the papers and items on the desk in stacks, as he went through them. There was several old files, and newspapers, and other items on the desk, none of which interested Marty. "Come on, Jeff, tell me you opened a new file, come on," Marty muttered to himself as he continued to look through his partner's papers.

Finally, he found a manila folder marked "Andrew Cargill, Freya Cargill" and a date. Marty picked up the file and put it on his own desk, then continued to go through everything else on Jeff's desktop. He found nothing of interest, and nothing distressing, so he gave the papers one last straightening, then returned to the desk and sat down.

Marty checked his watch. It was coming on to eight in the morning; between the time he had spent running around looking for Freya, the time spent at the hospital, and the time in the office, he had worked all through the night and not realised it. Marty reached for the phone. First, he phoned the hired-car company and extended his contract for the car, thinking it might be a good idea to keep a car that Freya wouldn't recognise while looking for her. Then Marty phoned Freya's flat and left a urgent message for her to call him. After that, he phoned the museum, and talked to several people--none of whom had seen Freya or knew where she was, again Marty left urgent messages. Finally, Marty put down the phone, pulled his chair away from the desk, and sat for a moment. More flashes of his conversations with Jeff haunted him, _"I'm fine, everything's fine here. Bye Marty."; "'Cause at the time, I wanted to die."; "...the whole thing was stupid and best left forgotten. ...Marty, I don't want to die, all right?"._ Marty was stood, his back supported by the office wall, shaking his head, and breathing hard, Jeff's words echoing in his head. _What is happening to me?_ Marty thought, then he forced himself to calm down and sat again at his desk.

Marty picked up the file and opened it. A handwritten piece of paper fluttered out of the file, Marty left it on his desk where it fell, and began to read the file. In it were several pieces of paper, all in Jeff's neat handwriting. There were notes from Freya's visit to Jeff to hire him to find her father, with an attached summary sheet, showing Jeff's own suppositions about the case and his plans to investigate it. There were notes and attached summaries from Jeff's interviews with various persons at the museum and elsewhere. There was a daily log, showing what Jeff had done each day that week, with detailed, timed information for every activity. There was even a copy of Jeff's final report with a handwritten note on top, listing the date and time Jeff planned on delivering a copy of the report to the museum, and a second notation listing the date and time that Jeff planned to give the report to Freya.

Marty noted that Jeff had planned to meet Freya that Friday, for an early lunch. There was nothing more recent than the report and it's two notes. Marty read the final report, carefully, then read it again, making notes of his own on a pad of paper. Then he read through everything else in the file, making a few notes of names of people Jeff had talked to, on his pad of paper. But everything in the file looked very straight-forward; there had been a major theft at the museum the same time that Andrew Cargill had disappeared. Marty could see where the investigation was going from the interviews, even without the benefit of reading Jeff's final report. Andrew Cargill had stolen a number of valuable artifacts from the museum; the artifacts had been disappearing for some time; and he had obviously done a runner when it looked like he was going to be caught. Marty finally put the file down on his desk.

"I bet Freya didn't like your report one bit, Jeff," Marty said out-loud. Then he tapped his fingers on the table, as he did the loose piece of paper from the file caught his eye. Marty stared at it for a full minute, before picking it up, and putting it, unread in the file. After sitting there for another minute, he opening the file and took out the paper, and slowly read it.

The paper started out as a brief report, confirming Jeff's delivery of his report on Andrew Cargill to the museum and to Freya. But gradually the tone of the paper changed, Marty continued to read it, and tears came to his eyes. When he reached the last paragraph, Marty gasped, dropping the paper. _Jeff, Jeff how could you?_ Marty thought. _How could you do it, Jeff? How could you think even for a moment that I don't care?_ Tears washed down his face, and he put his hands over his eyes, but let himself cry until he was spent. Once he had himself under control, Marty called the hospital and checked on Jeff. Discovering that Jeff was fine, or as fine as he had been when he'd left the last time, Marty put the phone down, then got up from his desk. As he was getting ready to leave the office, the phone rang.

"Hello?" Marty said, and then after a minute he said, "No, I'm fine, I needed to do a few things in the office, is all, I'll be back at the flat soon." Marty nodded, "Huh-uh, Mrs. Randall, Mum, I should start to..."

Marty left off, as he was, interrupted, listened then answered, "Thursday, I think, yah the last sleep I got was on Thursday..."

"All right, all right, I'll come back to the flat and take some kip. Yah, see you soon."

Marty put the phone down, then left the office.

  
  


****

**Earlier that Friday afternoon**

It was early afternoon on Friday, Jeff sat at his desk in his office, Marty's bottle of whiskey in front of himself on the desk, Jeff grabbed the whiskey bottle and splashed the amber liquid into a tumbler. He took and tumbler and drank it, then refilled it and drank some more.

_You're so dependent, Jeff, do you really think Marty cares at all about you? Hum? All he wants is someone about who makes him look good. He's not your mate, he's the bloke you work with. And you think he cares? You think he's your mate? That he loves you? Right, Jeff, he wouldn't care if you were dead!_ Freya's screaming at him echoed in his head, Jeff grabbed the whiskey bottle and poured himself some more, drinking down the liquid like it was soda or tea.

_And you don't care at all about me, do you Jeff? You didn't find my father (whack!), you're such a lousy detective (whack!), it's your fault he disappeared, you know! (whack, whack!) Who knows where he is, dead maybe, (whack!) and that's your fault as well! I will **never **forgive you, Jeff, never until the day I die! Get out Jeff, get the hell out of my flat, get the hell out of my **life**. _She threw the pillow at him.

Jeff shuddered, remembering Freya's screams, and her hitting him with a throw pillow with every word that she yelled at him. Jeff picked up Freya's file, and took a piece of lined legal-pad paper and began to write-up a business report, describing giving the report on Andrew Cargill's disappearance to the staff of the museum. As he began to describe giving the report to Freya, his hand shook. Without completely realising what he was doing he began to describe how he felt. Jeff lifted the pen and looked off into space, thinking. Then he thought about his tablets, his pain tablets. Jeff put the pen down and stood up. He checked the pockets of his suit-jacket, then the drawers of the desk. The bottle was in the right-hand corner of his desk. Jeff opening the pharmacy package, and took out the bottle. "Take two for joint pain as needed" read the instructions. Jeff nodded to himself, he carefully put the tablet bottle on the desk, next to the whiskey bottle. Then he sat, and picked up the pen again.

_Dear Marty, --**he wrote**--_

_Marty, I'm sorry. It's over between me and Freya. There sure as hell isn't going to be any wedding next month. It was all my fault, Marty, I didn't find Andrew. I sussed that he was guilty and when I told Freya... well, she was furious, Marty. She said she wanted me out of her life. And that's what I've decided to do._

_I don't know if you'll even care, but I've had enough. I'm sorry. Tell me mum I love her._

_Goodbye, Marty._

_Love, Jeff_

Jeff put the pen down, then picked up the note and put it in Freya's file. He put the file on a corner of the desk, and neatly placed several files on top of it. Jeff took another swing of whiskey, then took a couple of pain tablets. He drank more whiskey, looked at the bottle in his hand, and looked at the file, then he shook a handful of tablets into his hand. Jeff looked at the tablets for a minute, thinking quietly to himself, then brought his hand to his mouth and swallowed the tablets. _Maybe I should just dissolve them? It would make this easier._ Jeff poured the rest of the tablets directly into the whiskey bottle, and then took a drink.

  
  


****

**Early Saturday morning**

Marty unlocked the door of his flat, and quietly entered.

"Who's there?" came a woman's voice from the sofa.

Marty looked through the darkened room, and moved quietly towards the sofa, speaking as he did so, "It's me, Mrs. Randall, Mum, go ahead and get some more sleep."

"Marty?" said Mrs. Randall, turning over on the sofa, and facing him, pulling the blanket from her waist up to her chest as she did so.

Marty walked over to the sofa, and sat on a soft over-stuffed chair opposite. "Go back to sleep."

Mrs. Randall was more awake now, "No, Marty... you've been up all night, what were you doing?"

"Working. I went back to the office. I haven't found Freya, yet, and I want to go back out and search for her, today."

"You need your sleep, Marty. You said you were working, did you find anything?"

"I...no, no I didn't, mum," he lied.

"Get some sleep, dear."

Marty nodded at her, "Yah, you too, Mum," Marty stood up, and made to exit the lounge for his bedroom, when he turned back, "Oh, Mum...", his eyes flooded with tears.

Mrs. Randall looked at him, and stood up, taking him in her arms, "It's all right, Marty, it's all right, he's fine, he'll be just fine. Come on, now, Marty, shush..." and she continued to murmur to him as she held him.

Marty collapsed into her arms, accepting the comfort, quietly. Then he murmured, "Earlier today, no, yesterday... I walked in to the office and he was just lying there, on the floor, unconscious. At first I wasn't even sure he was alive! Oh, god, Mum, he...I..."

Mrs. Randall continued to hold Marty in her arms, "It's okay, it's all right, shush, Marty."

Marty pulled back, swallowing hard, and nodding, "I'm all right, I'm all right."

"Marty, I know this has been difficult for you. You don't need to take it all on, alone. I'm here, you can talk to me, all right, Marty?"

Marty nodded again, "Thanks, Mrs. Randall, mum. Thanks. I'll take some kip, then start looking for her again, later on, today."

Mrs. Randall looked at him, standing there, trying so hard to be brave, "All right, Marty, all right. Night, Marty."

"Night, Mrs. Randall, Mum. Good night. Did you find enough blankets and everything you needed?"

"Yah, Marty. I'm fine, go. Sleep. Now, Marty."

"I'm going, I'm going. Night."

"Night, Marty.

****

Marty woke to the smell of frying eggs and sausage, he got out of bed, dressed himself, then went out to the kitchen.

  
  


"Good morning, Marty," said Mrs. Randall who was stood at the cooker, frying breakfast.

"Morning? What time is it?" Marty answered, rubbing his eyes and moving into the kitchen.

"Well, it's almost 1 o'clock, but anytime you wake up it's good morning, Marty."

"One o'clock? How could you let me sleep 'til one o'clock! Mum, I have things to do!"

"Marty, you came **in** at eight-thirty or nine in the morning. You needed your sleep, so I let you sleep."

"But, Mum, Mrs. Randall..."

Mrs. Randall interrupted him, "Marty, I won't hear another word about it. You've only had a few hours of sleep as it is, now sit down and eat!"

Marty looked at her, then sat glumly in a chair at the table.

Mrs. Randall shook her head and turned back towards the frying pan on the cooker.

Marty smiled at her, "You didn't need to make breakfast, Mrs. Randall, mum, I should cook for you, you're the guest," he said, getting up and moving towards the cooker.

"Nonsense, Marty, and get some breakfast into you."

Marty again sat at a small table in the kitchen.

"Now, once you've had a good breakfast, what are your plans today?"

"I'll run you to hospital, mum, don't worry. I'll see Jeff. And then I need to get back out there, I need to find Freya. I thought maybe I'd check the pubs near her flat, the museum, and her work. Maybe if I find her local I can track her."

Mrs. Randall nodded.

  


****

Marty did just as he told Mrs. Randall he was going to do, he checked Freya's work, and local pubs, but he didn't find her. Finally, he went back to her flat, and waited in the dark for her. The flat was still a mess, but he knew she'd be back, Freya was too materialistic to abandon everything she owned. Marty sat, thinking, remembering Jeff's note, remembering finding him unconscious, and waited patiently for Freya to arrive.

There was the noise of heels in the hall, then the noise of a key in the lock. Freya pushed open the door, flipping on the lights, then looked into the room and saw Marty waiting for her.

"What are **you **doing here?"

Marty looked at her with loathing. "Don't you know, Freya?"

"If I knew, I wouldn't have bloody asked! This is **my** flat, you want me to ring the police, Marty? Because I'd love to see them haul you away and throw away the key!"

Marty glared at her, then got up, he rushed Freya, grabbing her arm and throwing her on the couch. "Jeff's in hospital, you bloody bitch! He tried to kill himself! He'd probably have succeeded as well, if I hadn't returned to the office a couple of days early! Damn it, Freya, don't you EVER bloody THINK about what the hell you're doing!" Marty's eyes flashed.

Freya quivered on the couch, startled by Marty's intense anger, "He's in hospital?" she asked, quietly.

"Yah! He is!" Marty moved closer to the couch, leaning over her.

"Good!" Freya shouted back. "He deserves it for not finding my father!" She looked up at Marty, smirking at him.

Marty raised his arm, ready to slap her, when he was hit with a flash of being hit by his mum. He shook off the flash of memory, and looked down at Freya cowering before him, then lowered his arm.

"No, you're not worth it. Leave him alone, Freya, get the bloody hell out of London, or I **will** come back and see that you get what you bloody deserve! So help me, if you **ever** come near Jeff again, I will kill you Freya. You hurt Jeff again, you come near him again, and I don't care what they do to me, but I'll kill you Freya, see if I don't!"

Marty spun on his heel, and stomped to the door, hand on the door handle, he turned back and said, "You don't deserve Jeff, Freya! You **never **deserved, Jeff!" Marty yanked open the door, and left, rushing down the stairs and outside. He reached his Ford Sierra and leaned against the car, his forehead resting on the top of the car. He breathed deep, trying to calm himself down, trying to re-gain his equilibrium. Slowly, his breathing returned to normal, and he yanked the car door open and got in on the driver's side. He pulled the door shut, and leaned against the wheel, closing his eyes again. Then he straightened up and leaned back, driving off in the car with a squeal of tyres.

  
  


****

Marty had calmed considerably by the time he reached the hospital and made his way to Jeff's room. It was late, but the hospital staff had become accustomed to Marty's visits and waved him through, past the nurses' station. Marty walked to Jeff's hospital room, and calmed himself, pasting a smile on his face before opening the door and walking in.

Jeff was sitting up in bed, reading a book. He looked up when he heard Marty enter, and smiled, "Marty!"

"Hi, Jeff," Marty said, brightly, as he moved over to the bedside and sat down, "What are you reading?"

"Nothing that interesting, actually, Mum dropped it off," Jeff looked at Marty, put the book on the bedside table, and then with his patented ability to read his best mate he said, "So, Marty, I take it you found Fre... her? Found Freya, I mean."

Marty looked at him, "God, you know me so well, Jeff."

"What happened?"

Marty looked at him, silently.

"It's okay, Marty, mum let it slip that you'd been out looking for Freya, that you hadn't been here with me as much as you might have liked so you could hunt for her. I can tell something's happened, so go ahead and tell me."

Marty sighed, took a deep breath, then said, "No, you're right, Jeff," Marty closed his eyes for a minute and thought, then opened his eyes and looked at Jeff, "I've been looking for her for days. I looked everywhere, even the pubs near her flat and her work, but I couldn't find her. So I went to her flat, and was sat there until she walked in," he stood up, and began to pace, "I intended to hurt her, Jeff. I had every intention of extracting my pound of flesh from her, of physically beating her for everything that she did to you."

"Oh, Marty, no!" Jeff interrupted.

"Jeff, let me finish, okay? I said, I **intended** to. When... when I found her, I... sommat changed, Jeff. Sommat changed in me, looking at her cowering there, and I realised I couldn't do it. I couldn't lift one finger against her. She wasn't worth it, and it would have hurt **me**, changed **me, **to beat her like that, Jeff. I didn't touch her, Jeff, not really. I'm sorry."

Jeff stared at Marty, silently, then said, "Marty don't apologise."

"What?"

"I said, don't apologise. Marty, you're..." Jeff got himself out of the bed, walking towards the locked window in his pajamas, and looked out for a minute, thinking, then he turned, walked back to the bed and sat on the edge of the hospital bed, facing Marty. "Marty, I wouldn't have wanted to see what doing something like that would do to you, all right? I would **not **have wanted you to ... to beat Freya, or anyone, really, Marty. Not for me, not even for yourself," Jeff leaned forward and touched Marty's arm, "It would not solve anything, and it **would **have changed you, Marty," Jeff got up of the bed, moved behind Marty and put his arm around Marty, who had closed his eyes. Holding him gently, Jeff said, "You have never, ever, been violent, Marty. Not towards others. Not ever. Even in the business we're in, I have never seen you go after anyone with your fists, Marty. Or any type of violence. Not more than you needed to, not ever."

Marty opened his eyes, turned, and looked at Jeff.

"I wouldn't want the responsibility for causing you to change. Of making you into someone you're not."

Marty looked up at Jeff, and his blue eyes widened, "Jeff... you mean that?"

"Marty...I...it's..." Jeff stumbled, looking at his mate, then he walked a few feet into the room, away from Marty, "I mean it, Marty."

Marty walked the few feet to Jeff, then said, "You do know me so well. You know me better than anyone, Jeff," he put a hand on his mate's shoulder, "Are you sure it's all right? Freya's gone. She's left London. And if she hasn't quite left yet, she will soon, after what I said to her. I don't know where she'll go, either. Not that I care, but... I... there'd be no point in trying to find her again."

Jeff put his hand on Marty's shoulder, "Marty, if you **had** taken revenge for me, it -- it would have changed **you**, Marty. I'm glad you didn't, all right?"

Marty took a step back, and nodded, "Yah, Jeff, thanks."

Jeff smiled at him, and Marty smiled back. Then Marty said, "Maybe we should get you back into bed."

Jeff looked down at his pajamas, then nodded, "Yah, suppose so. When do you think I'll be getting out of here, Marty? I want to go home."

"To my flat, Jeff."

"What?"

"The doctors said you stay a week, and it's been three days. But then you're coming to me flat. I'm not letting you go back to your flat where you lived with that... that **woman**," Marty said vehemently, "You come home with me, until I say you can find your own new flat."

Jeff looked at his mate as he climbed into the bed, "Marty, I'm fine!"

Previous flashes of Jeff saying the same thing echoed in Marty's head, and he shook, then gently helped Jeff with the covers on the hospital bed, "It's not up for discussion, Jeff."

Jeff looked at Marty's serious expression, and nodded, then snuggled into bed. "All right, your flat it is, then," turning away to sleep. After a few minutes, Jeff said, "Marty? Marty!" and turned towards Marty.

"I'm here, Jeff," Marty answered.

Jeff sighed deeply, "Stay with me until I fall asleep? Will you do that?"

"Of course, Jeff, I'll be right here, all right?"

Jef mumbled, and snuggled into bed, calmly, turning away again to sleep. Marty sighed deeply and reached for one of the magazines that sat on the table next to the bed, along with a few books, flowers, a bowl of fruit, and the other gifts and things he and Jeff's mother had brought to him over the last few days. Marty glanced through the magazine, reading a paragraph here, a short article there, and occasionally glancing up over the magazine at Jeff as Jeff's breathing evened out.

He sighed, contentedly. Finally, everything was right in Marty's world. He suspected the next few months would be tough, that at times, Jeff wouldn't be so content, but for the moment, Marty sat in a chair, next to Jeff's hospital bed, and listened to his best mate falling asleep.

**The End**


End file.
